


Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Winchesters

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Poetry, fan poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This came to me in my sleep.  Then <b><a href="http://deirdre-c.livejournal.com/"><b>deirdre_c</b></a></b> posted a story about Sam and Dean and the Impala -- so I had to actually write this down!  Anyways,  it is part crack, part pastiche, part poem.  Sorry!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Winchesters

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Sam and Dean  
(with apologies to Wallace Stevens)

I  
Among twenty snowy parking lots,  
The only moving thing  
Was the eye of an older brother.

II  
I was of three minds,  
Like a motel room  
In which there are two brothers and a demon.

III  
A demon whirled in the autumn winds.  
It was a small part of Pandemonium.

IV  
Sam and Dean  
Are one.  
Sam and Dean and the Impala  
Are one.

V  
I do not know which to prefer,  
The beauty of Dean  
Or the beauty of innuendoes,  
Sam’s moment of understanding,  
Or just after.

VI  
The deal filled the long year  
With barbaric excesses.  
The shadow of the demon  
Crossed it, at first and in the end.  
The mood  
Traced on Dean’s face  
An unavoidable resolution.

VII  
O women of fandom,  
Why do you imagine golden bodies?  
Do you not see how demons  
Walk in the bodies  
Of everyone around them?

VIII  
Sam knows the old Latin,  
its lucid, inescapable rhythms;  
But Dean knows, too,  
That demons are involved  
In what he knows.

IX  
When the Impala drove out of sight,  
It marked the edge  
Of one of many circles.

X  
At the sight of demons  
Flying in a heavy cloud,  
Even the bawds of chaos  
Would cry out sharply.

XI  
Dean rode over Connecticut  
In a ‘67 Impala.  
Once, a fear pierced him,  
In that he mistook  
The shadow of his baby  
For a hellhound.

XII  
The Impala is moving.  
The brothers must be flying.

XIII  
It was evening all afternoon.  
It was snowing  
And it was going to snow.  
Two brothers sat  
In their motel room.  
 


End file.
